Jommy style mile high club!
by crazy4timmy
Summary: smut smut smut!


I OWN NOTHING!!!

Jommy trip to the mile high club!

I'm sure you've heard of the Mile High Club. Personally, I never saw the point. What's so cool about having sex in one of those miniature bathrooms? I wondered. Slammed against the mirror with your legs spread wide, trying to avoid plunging one foot in the neon-blue toilet water while keeping your ass out of the sink. I like comfort. I like plenty of room. I like to make noise.

But on our recent flight from New York to San Francisco, Tommy and I found ourselves in a new predicament. We fell asleep, my head resting lightly on his shoulder, his strong arm wrapped firmly around my body. And once asleep I began to dream.

Have you ever had a sex dream so real that you were certain the person you dreamed about must have shared it with you? This one was like that—an image of us from recent memory. Raw. Outta control. It was a vision of Tommy fucking me on the hood of my car, my legs hooked over his shoulders. Staring down at me in the dimly lit parking garage that greedy look filling his blue eyes, whisper-hissing, "Like that? You like it like that?" with each forward thrust.

"Yeah…."

"Oh I know you do, my hungry one. I know all about you."

I stirred on the plane, feeling the flushed, embarrassed heat in my cheeks, the wetness between my legs from just a dream. Then I look at him. His eyes were open watching me.

"You're beautiful when you sleep."

I smiled, then told him about my dream, and he leaned back in the seat and said, "I wish we were somewhere we could turn that into a reality." I checked my watch. We had three more hours of flight time.

"Do you want to….?" he finally asked, motioning toward the rear of the jet. And there it was--I suddenly understood the whole concept of doing it on a plane. I unbuckled my seat belt and walked back to the lavatories. He followed

When you hear people bragging about their indoctrination into the Mile High Club, they don't usually mention the amazing difficulty it can be to get two people into one bathroom. We are both full-grown adults and airplane rest rooms were built for munchkins. Despite the close quarters, Tommy pushed me into the lavatory, followed me in, and shut the door behind us.

In a flash, I was up on the rim of the sink, back against the mirror, legs splayed--forgetting all about my previous misgivings, I hiked my black skirt as high as it would go and slide my cream-colored panties to the side. Tommy was ready, pressing forward, cock plunging inside me.

And that's when the turbulence hit. The little red warning light flashed, commanding us to return to our seats. The pilot's manly drone insisted that our belts be buckled. Tommy kept right on going. It was like taking a ride on top of a washing machine, the motion of the plane, the delicious friction of his body against mine. Disregard everything I said about the tiny compartment, about the foul blue water, about the sink. My breath caught in my throat, my hands gripped the edge of the steely counter for leverage. My mind was consumed entirely with want.

There was a knock on the door. " you have to return to your seat.."

"I'm not feeling well.." I hissed, my voice heavy and dark with urgency.

"Oh," she left it alone, not wanting to get involved.

"Ohhh…" I murmured, echoing her. "That's right. Yeah, that's right."

Tommy grabbed the back of my hair, lifting my face upward for a kiss. We tried, but missed, as the plane suddenly bucked and we were thrown against each other. Now I was pressed against him, feeling his hands cradling my ass, plunging me up and down on his rod. The red light continued to flash. The caption continued to speak over the intercom, describing exactly what was causing the pockets of rocking air. Didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the way it felt to be in Tommy's embrace, the way the motion of the plane worked with the motion of our bodies.

Tommy turned in a tight circle, so that his back was now against the rim of the sink and I was still in his arms. I could see my reflection in the mirror. My blue eyes glowed in the fluorescent light. My cheeks were rose-tinted, fever-flushed. My teeth bit hard into my lower lip, smearing what lipstick I still had on.

"Now," Tommy said.

"…now." I breathed a harsh sigh of release, relief as we came together. The vibrations worked to set me off, those, and the last wild jerks of the plane caught in a violent burst of air. Then, as the turbulence lessened, slowed, and the air became calm…so did I. Tommy set me gently down on the floor. Cautiously, he slide the door open and then quickly slipped out and closed the door. I relatched it, cleaned up, and then joined him back at our seats. No one saw, but the flight attendant came to my side after a moment, handing me an extra air sick bag, with the words of caution, "Just in case…"


End file.
